Thorfinn and the Disgusting Feast

by David MacPhail

  Thorfinn beamed. Then he turned to Velda. “Why, after you, dear friend.”

  Velda let out a yell that would send shivers up the spine of a banshee. “What are you waiting for? CAST OFF, you miserable weasels! MAN THE OARS, you useless cretins!”

  Thorfinn stood at the prow under the green dragon head, with Percy perched on his shoulder. He looked out at the fjords leading to the open sea. “Set sail for the Orkney Islands!”

  CHAPTER 5

  Despite Torsten the Ship-Sinker nearly sailing them into the Arctic Ocean, and Grut the Goat-Gobbler eating all the supplies – including Thorfinn’s vegetables – they somehow made it to their destination, though it took two days longer than it should have.

  “Look, it’s the Orkneys!” cried Velda, who was acting as lookout.

  They docked at the Earl’s castle, which was perched on a rock overlooking a wide bay. The Earl of Orkney was a great Viking prince, whose lands stretched a great distance south onto the mainland of Scotland.

  “Why don’t we all go ashore and see if Uncle Rolf’s in?” suggested Thorfinn. “It’ll be a nice group outing for us.”

  Percy flapped onto Thorfinn’s shoulder, and the whole crew marched up to the gates of the castle behind him.

  Thorfinn saluted the guard at the gate. “Good morning, my dear sir.”

  The guard stared, as though Thorfinn had just stepped off a spaceship.

  “My name is Thorfinn the Very-Very-Nice-Indeed, and I’m here to see my Uncle Rolf, who works in your kitchens.”

  The guard cast his eye over the pigeon on Thorfinn’s shoulder and the sorry band of misfits behind him. “Wait here.”

  ***

  It wasn’t long before Uncle Rolf – a large man with rosy cheeks and a long twirly moustache – appeared. He was dressed in white and wore a chef’s hat. He picked Thorfinn up and gave him a huge bear hug.

  “Thorfinn! My nephew’s come to visit! What a lovely surprise. Come in!”

  He led them through the castle’s vast and cavernous kitchens, from one room to another. It was a hot, bustling place, full of shouting and foodie aromas. An army of cooks was chopping, frying, baking, and stirring cauldrons with huge ladles.

  Grut was drooling. “Ohhh, that looks nice. That does too. So does that. Mmmmm. Do you mind if I have a taste?” He stopped at every bubbling pot and lagged behind.

  Torsten got lost, of course, wandering off in the wrong direction as they turned a corner.

  Gertrude was chatting to the kitchen staff. She snatched one of the flies circling her head and offered it to a chef. “Do you wants one of mine for your stew?” The man shook his head in disgust. She shrieked, “No flies? How in the name of Thor do you add any taste?”

  Finally Uncle Rolf turned to them. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  Thorfinn explained why they had travelled to Orkney. His uncle twiddled his moustache. “Hmm, I’m glad you came. Nobody knows more about cooking fish than me.”

  “That’s just what we thought, dear Uncle,” said Thorfinn.

  “No one can smoke a flounder like me, or stuff a pike like me, or souse a sparling, or stew a redfish. No one can sautée a sturgeon the way I do. And yet…” An annoyed look came over his face. “When I put one of these down in front of a Viking, you know what they do?” He threw his hands to his chest and his eyes welled up. “They curse me, they accuse me of poisoning them. I’m SOOOOOO unappreciated!”

  “HUH! You can’t blame them,” said Olaf. “You might as well attack them with a hammer as put fish down for their dinner. YUCK!”

  “Shut up, you!” cried Velda, nudging Olaf with her axe.

  Uncle Rolf continued, shaking his head. “It’s such a pity the Vikings hate fish. The sea that surrounds us is the best in the world for seafood.” He sank into his seat with a great sigh.

  “So, can you help me?” asked Thorfinn.

  Rolf leapt to his feet again. “Can I?” He took Thorfinn by the shoulder. “Young man, I will show you EVERYTHING I know about cooking fish: how to broil a stickleback, how to bake a perch, how to pickle herring. I’ll even show you how to steam an eel. By the time I’ve finished with YOU, my lad, you will know as much as I do.” Rolf rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get started!”

  Thorfinn grinned and rolled up his sleeves, just as Harek, who wasn’t looking where he was going, tripped over a mop and bucket and fell flat on his face:

  “AAAAARGH!”

  Then got his foot stuck in the bucket.

  “HEEELP!”

  Oswald tried to help him.

  “HEEAVVE!” cried the old man, sounding like a camel with allergies as he strained to pull the bucket off Harek’s leg.

  They were interrupted by a muffled voice: “Hello? HELLO? Is anyone there?” It was Torsten, who’d managed to get lost inside a cupboard.

  Thorfinn turned to Velda. “My dear friend, would you mind awfully rounding up the others and taking them back to the ship. I might be a while.”

  Velda looked at the chaos the crew were causing in the kitchens. Gertrude was still shrieking, Torsten had tumbled out of the cupboard and was sprawled across the floor, and Grimm was curled up in a basket beside a dog with big sad eyes, blubbing his head off.

  Oswald finally managed to pull the bucket off Harek’s foot, but the final yank sent the old man toppling backwards over a table…

  “EEEEEEE!”

  …only to land on top of Grut, who was hiding there gobbling a pie he’d pinched from the chefs.

  Velda rolled her sleeves up and said to Thorfinn, “I don’t know who’s got the tougher job – you or me. RIGHT YOU BUNCH OF LOSERS – BACK TO THE SHIP!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Thorfinn began by watching his uncle closely. Rolf prepared the fish at his worktable and then transferred it onto a hot griddle.

  “Your hands are moving so fast,” said Thorfinn.

  “You’ll get used to it, lad!” replied Rolf.

  And he was right, because Thorfinn was quick to learn. Rolf soon gave Thorfinn a nod. “Your turn!”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Thorfinn’s brow as he copied what his uncle showed him, but he was smiling. “What fun this is!”

  Before long the boy began to improve. By the following day he could match his uncle in everything, until at last the two of them were sautéeing side by side. Indeed, they were soon working in harmony, cooking dishes together.

  “Chuck me the swordfish steak, my lad!” his uncle would cry.

  “Why most certainly, old bean,” Thorfinn would reply, lobbing the juicy morsel high over his shoulder for Uncle Rolf to catch in his hot pan. This soon drew an audience, as the other chefs crowded round to watch.

  ***

  It was three days before Thorfinn and Rolf returned to the pier-side to find the crew, who had managed to avoid any further accidents under Velda’s watchful eye.

  “Thanks to my dear uncle I now know everything there is to know about cooking fish. I can chargrill a bream, roast a charr, pan-fry a turbot. I can even griddle a grayling. We’re going to host a wonderful feast for the King.”

  “HUZZAH!” cried the crew.

  “Can we go home now?” said Olaf. “I’m sick of hanging around this boat with these idiots.”

  “Uh, I do hate going home, it’s so boring!” said Grimm.

  Thorfinn stepped aboard the boat and coughed to clear his throat. “My dear crew, we’re going fishing!”

  “Huzzooo!” they cried, with a lot less enthusiasm.

  Uncle Rolf helped them to restock the ship’s stores, and then it was time to continue their journey.

  “Come back and visit any time,” said Uncle Rolf as the boat moved away.

  “Thanks again, Uncle,” said Thorfinn.

  “Remember, the best fish can be found in the wild ocean far to the west.”

  “He’s right,” said Oswald. “Legend has it that the seas there are jumping with exotic creatures.”

  “Very well, then. That’s where we’ll go,”
said Thorfinn. He turned to Torsten. “To the west!”

  Torsten’s face took on the look of a badly stuffed goat. “West, oh, er, right. Er, which way is that again?”

  “Towards the setting sun, my dear friend,” said Thorfinn.

  Torsten nodded enthusiastically. “RIGHHHT! Thanks. That’s easy. For the first time I know exactly which way to go.” He bowed and turned to take charge of the ship’s rudder. “Towards the setting sun!”

  CHAPTER 7

  They left the Orkney Islands behind and sailed west. The sky was covered with thick cloud and the sea began to roll.

  Gertrude spent all day cooking, and then waved what looked like a large brown blob under the crew’s noses. “Anyone like a piece of me lovely sticky ant cake?”

  Even Grut turned his nose up at it. “Great Thor! It’s so sticky you could slap it between some bricks and build a house with it.”

  Velda was at the stern, practising her kicking.

  “HI-YAA!”

  “Oh, will you knock it off with that stupid dance routine,” said Olaf.

  Velda fumed. “This is no dance routine. I HATE dancing. Dancing’s for wimps. This is called kick-boxing.”

  “Rubbish!”

  “It is too! It’s an ancient art, taught to me by an old and wise master.”

  “Oh yeah? Who?”

  Velda bit her lip and her eyes shifted to Oswald, who was propped up on his cane nearby.

  “Him??” Olaf thumbed at the old man. “Ha! He’d lose a fight with a squirrel.” Olaf’s booming laugh rang out across the waves.

  “Only because I’m saving myself, young man,” said Oswald, sounding a bit like a squirrel – one that was gnawing on an especially large nut.

  “Yeah, just you wait,” said Velda. “One day, you’ll see Oswald leap into action, then you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face.”

  “I can’t wait,” Olaf chuckled.

  Meanwhile Torsten and Thorfinn stood on the prow gazing ahead at the horizon.

  “Pardon me, Mr Ship-Sinker,” said Thorfinn, “but how do you tell which way we’re headed if you can’t see the sun?”

  “Ah, that’s why I have this.” Torsten pulled a glass stone out of his pocket. “It’s a sun stone. You hold it up to the clouds and it tells you where the sun is. Look, I’ll show you.” He held the stone up.

  Harek, the clumsy warrior, was mending a broken plank on the deck nearby. His hammer suddenly flew out of his hand.

  “Whoops! Butterfingers!” he cried.

  The hammer thumped Torsten on the back of the head. “OW!” The stone flew through the air and – splash! – fell into the water. “NOOOOO!”

  “SORR-EEE!” cried Harek, while Torsten’s fingers grasped at thin air.

  “It’s no good. It’s gone.”

  “Er, right, is that bad?” asked Harek, looking embarrassed.

  “Without it I have no way of seeing which way is west. So, yes, it’s bad.”

  But the crew soon had more problems on their hands, when Velda pointed out a darker, thundery bank of cloud rolling towards them. “Look, a storm is coming!”

  Thorfinn stepped up on a water barrel and coughed. “Ahem. Excuse me everyone. I do hate to interrupt, but would you please be so good as to help batten down the hatches?”

  They all got to work, rolling up the sail, drawing in the oars and closing the oar ports. The boat was ready to face the storm. Everyone hunkered down on deck, waiting.

  CHAPTER 8

  The storm was ferocious. For hours, the wind howled, the rain battered down, the boat tossed from side to side. Lots of supplies crashed over the side of the boat. Everyone held on tight, until eventually the waves calmed and the rain stopped.

  “Check everything, see if she’s still in good shape,” said Thorfinn, and the crew inspected the boat.

  Soon Harek began to yell. “Thorfinn, quick! There’s a leak. We’re taking on water.”

  Thorfinn and a few others rushed over to see water spurting up between two of the wooden planks that made up the hull. Thorfinn stroked his chin. “Hmm, that is something of a bind.”

  “A bind?” yelled Olaf. “It’s a disaster, that’s what it is. We could drown!”

  “We can fix it. We just need tools,” said Grut.

  “We don’t have any. They all got washed over the side,” said Harek.

  The crew started bickering, and shouting over one another.

  “It’s your fault, you fool!” said Olaf to Torsten.

  “It’s Harek’s fault, he lost my sun stone,” replied Torsten.

  “Oh, we’re all doomed, this is SOOOO depressing,” said Grimm.

  “And me so young!” shrieked Gertrude.

  To shut everyone up, Velda let loose a sharp, terrifying yell that would shatter glass chandeliers, had there been any glass chandeliers on board. There was silence. She nodded at Thorfinn, who nodded back and then stood up on a barrel.

  “All we need to do is shore up the hole,” said Thorfinn.

  “But we don’t have anything to use!” said Grut.

  “We must be able to think of something.”

  Thorfinn turned to Oswald, who rubbed his beard between two fingers.

  “We usually use hemp and pine tar to seal any leaks on board,” he said.

  “That all got washed away along with the tools,” said Harek.

  “We’re DOOMED I tell you!” cried Grimm as he slumped down on a bucket.

  Thorfinn turned to Gertrude. “My dear Mistress Grotty, would you please go and fetch your sticky ant pie?”

  Her face creased into a smile. “Why, Thorfinn, of courses I will.” She toddled off to fetch her cake. She seemed to be under the impression that Thorfinn actually intended to eat it.

  Then Thorfinn turned to Oswald. “My dear old friend, you know those very large white underpants you wear? I don’t suppose you have a spare pair we could borrow?”

  Oswald looked offended. “No one’s going to use MY underpants to plug a hole in a sinking ship.”

  “Oh please,” said Velda. “We don’t have anything else big enough.”

  “Oh, very well,” grumbled the old man.

  “And finally,” said Thorfinn, “we need something strong and elastic.” He turned to Grut. “My dear Mr Goat-Gobbler, do you have anything suitable?”

  Grut flushed. His eyes darted from side to side. “Er, no.”

  “Oh come on, I know your secret. Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Thorfinn whispered loudly.

  Everyone looked at each other, puzzled, except Thorfinn, who smiled, and Grut, whose face went even redder.

  Grut sighed and his shoulders slumped. “OK.” He opened his tunic and hauled out an enormous corset. The others gasped as his massive flabby belly exploded out of his shirt.

  “A corset, ha!” Olaf fell about laughing. “He looks like a whale!”

  Oswald returned, flinging his spare underpants at Thorfinn. They were practically the size of a tablecloth. Harek picked them up between his thumb and forefinger. “EEEWW!”

  “They’re clean!” said Oswald.

  Harek began to stuff the underpants in the hole. The water slowed to a trickle.

  Gertrude returned with her cake. “There you go me dears. Have a mouthful of sticky ants.”

  “Thank you,” said Thorfinn. She was horrified to see him hand it to Harek, who smeared it into the gap. The water almost stopped altogether.

  “Now we just need to hammer it in a bit,” said Harek. “Except we don’t have a hammer.”

  “No problem,” said Thorfinn. He turned to Velda. “My dear old pal, would you be so good as to put your excellent kicking into practice?”

  Velda rolled up her sleeves. “You betya. Watch this.” She delivered a mighty kick against the hull.

  “HI-YAAA!”

  Then another, and another. It wasn’t long before the underpants and the sticky ant pie had been squashed flat and the hole sealed for good.

  “Excellent work,” said Thorfinn
. “Now we’ll nail it all in place using my friend Grut’s corset.” He handed it to Harek, who stretched it out to its tightest point and bashed nails in with an axe handle to pin it to the hull.

  “All we need to do now is bail out the water,” said Grut. “Are there any buckets left on board?”

  “Oh, I suppose we could always use this one I’m sitting on,” sighed Grimm. “But what’s the point?”

  “Shut up and hand me the bucket,” said Harek.

  “Well done, everyone,” said Thorfinn. “We’re saved!”

  “HUZZAH!” they all cried, except for Olaf, who for once had nothing to say.

  They gazed out at the horizon, wondering if the waves would guide them to the famous fishing grounds in the far west ocean.

  CHAPTER 9

  The following morning they woke to find the boat surrounded by sea fog.

  “There’s fear in the crew’s faces,” said Oswald.

  “And no wonder,” said Torsten. “There’s only one thing Vikings hate more than fog.”

  “Line dancing!” said Grut.

  “No,” replied Torsten. “Krakens, of course.” Krakens were legendary sea monsters. Not that anyone had ever seen one.

  “But my dear friend, krakens are just a myth,” said Thorfinn.

  “Exactly, and fog is very, very real,” said Torsten. “We could crash into rocks and get shipwrecked.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Velda.

  “There’s nothing we can do. Just sit tight and wait.”

  “Why don’t we try fishing?” said Thorfinn. “After all, it’s why we’re here.”

  The crew agreed, if only because there was nothing better to do. Harek quickly rigged up some fishing rods, and the crew dangled them over the side.

  Unfortunately this venture wasn’t very successful. All Gertrude managed to catch was an old boot. Grimm caught a bit of wood. Grut caught some seaweed, which tasted disgusting. Torsten wrestled for hours with something on the end of his fishing rod, only to find when he hauled it aboard that it was just a tiny perch. Velda and Thorfinn were the only ones to land any proper fish. And by this time the crew was so hungry they decided to eat them all. Except, that is, for Olaf.